


Of hunters and (fake) dating

by TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-05 06:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15858006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving/pseuds/TheyDraggedMeInNowIAintLeaving
Summary: “I need a boyfriend,” Allison says.“What you need, is to get laid,” Lydia says.~A short story where Allison gets a boyfriend and the rest is left to the imagination





	Of hunters and (fake) dating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clotpolesonly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/gifts).



> This is made with love for [clotpolesonly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly), and while I failed at getting the bonus points I hope you'll still enjoy this story.
> 
> Comments, kudos and constructive critism welcome. Did I forget tags or epically fail at the rating let me know and I'll change it

The chime of the doorbell makes the people sitting in the living room stop talking, a bright “I’ll get it” floating through the air and half a minute later an excited yell sounds from the hallway.

Chris sighs (soundlessly) the sigh of the ever suffering because even before his daughter can appear in the doorway, he already knows who their surprise visitor is. He’s proven right barely before the thought is over, Stiles looming awkwardly behind his baby girl - he barely has time to figure out why his brain came up with that term to describe the kid when he’s about as terrifying as a fawn before he has to not snort in disbelief as he’s introduced as “my boyfriend, Stiles,” to their guests.

It instantly sours the mood. Well, that of the guests’, Allison and Stiles seem to have disappeared into their own little world, holding hands and sitting so close on the couch one might as well have gotten on the other’s lap. Chris isn’t sure if he should scowl at Stiles or the guests.

~

At long last it’s late enough everybody starts making noises about going to bed, and suddenly any amusement Chris may have felt evaporates as Stiles follows Allison up the stairs and into her room. He wonders if (and where) he can shoot the kid while still avoiding repercussions from either his sheriff father or the wolves; before he can come to a decision Allison’s turning off the lights and with a stern face tells him to “go to sleep, dad. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long one.”

Grudgingly he does as he’s told, but he has a hard time falling asleep. He’d never realized just how sound travels the house as he can hear whispers from both the guest bedroom and Allison’t room. He strains his ears in that direction hoping he’ll hear something he can use to justify to the sheriff at least threatening his kid but their voices are too low or the walls too thick to actually make out the actual words.

He’s unaware of it happening but eventually he does fall asleep.

* * *

“I need a boyfriend,” Allison says once she’s inside the pack house. Met with stunned silence she looks up from untying her shoelaces.

“What you need, is to get laid,” Lydia says causing Erica to snort milk out of her nose and Stiles to scramble picking his jaw up from the floor and the rest of the pack to continue being frozen in place. Lydia smirks at the pack and then turns back to Allison, a speculative look on her face.

“No,” Allison takes a second to think it over. “Well, I do, but that’s not why I need a boyfriend.” At least that seems to stop Lydia in whatever tirade she was gearing up for.

“Explain,” is all she says and so Allison does. She begins with the phone call from the Turners inviting themselves to her dad’s suspicion that they intend to set her up with their son; the Argent name still carries a lot of weight in hunter circles and the Turners are apparently ambitious people. And while Allison wants nothing to do with that life she knows her dad’s connections are useful to have even with Beacon Hills no longer being the hotbed of monstrous activity it had been when they’d moved here years ago. That means she can’t just outright tell them to fuck off and she reckons it’s easier to avoid unwanted advances if she can produce an actual boyfriend rather than just talk about one.

“You want to put a wolf in the middle of hunters,” Derek… asks? at least she thinks he intended it as a question.

“You could take Lydia. There’s no way to tell she’s anything but human.” Scott looks so proud of himself she can barely bring herself to burst his bubble; for the good of the pack she’s going to, though.

“I want to avoid them going all trigger happy. A werewolf busting through the windows, fangs and claws out in overprotectiveness probably isn’t going to achieve that.” There’s a few snickers - the only one more level headed and in control than Cora is Boyd, but when it came to threats to her girlfriend whether real or not, there was no reasoning with her, much to Lydia’s despair and the rest of the pack’s amusement.

Allison has never regretted joining the pack, not even when she and Scott had broken up for good; it had lead to a few awkward months but that was a thing of the past. And sure, it had taken some getting used to the difference between _pack_ and _friends_ , not to mention a _lot_ of apologizing and proving herself, but Derek, Erica and Boyd had forgiven her and when they’d been the ones to formally ask her to join she’d accepted without hesitation. However, she’d never bothered to expand her social circle much beyond the pack - and those she had befriended definitely couldn’t be let in on the family secret anyway - which in this case probably would prove more of an hindrance than an asset.

A loud crash from the kitchen and then swearing had them all turn their heads towards the door and when Stiles comes into view Allison is smiling widely at him.

“No!” he holds up his hands in front of him. “Not happening. No. No no no times infinity. You want in in French? Non. Not a chance. I’m a fragile human whose only defence is sarcasm.”

It doesn’t take more than Scott’s puppy eyes for him to change his mind, though he keeps complaining all through “The Notebook”.

* * *

Stiles has made it through hours of being scowled at by strangers (novices, hardly worth noticing) and Chris Argent (who’s infinitely more scary than Derek ever was), but standing in Allison’s bedroom he wishes he was back downstairs getting the stink eye from four different people. He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him they were going to share a bed, but looking at the thing right now he’s not entirely sure it’ll be able to hold the two of them.

Oblivious to his silent freak out Allison’s taking off her clothes - it doesn’t register until she’s in her jammies - and then opening the door, presumably going to the bathroom to brush her teeth and whatever else women do before going to bed. Stiles doesn’t know, the times he’s been in a woman’s bed he’d had other things to do than ask questions about nightly routines.

He’s still standing where he’s been standing since he laid eyes on the bed when Allison comes back. She sends him a look before getting under the covers and promptly turn her back at him. Thankfully it spurs him into movement and he quickly sheds his shirts and jeans, putting on a pair of sweats and then going off to brush his own teeth. He _doesn’t_ make any noise when he practically collides with Chris coming out of the bathroom, but as soon as he closes the door behind him his under the covers, too, begging Allison to save him from her dad.

She laughs at him, turns to look at him in the mostly dark room be whispering that he’s got nothing to worry about, after all his dad’s the sheriff.  
After they talk a little about everything and nothing until Allison falls asleep between one word and the next, Stiles following close behind.

~

There’s a special place in Hell reserved for the kind of assholes who gleefully wakes others at the ass crack of dawn. Stiles refuses to believe the clock telling him it’s nine in the morning because clearly it’s a lying liar who lies; he still shrugs on a shirt and makes his way downstairs where Allison, goddess that she is he takes back anything bad he may have thought about her, hands him a mug of coffee. It’s black and strong and just enough to convince him to open his eyes; the mug’s out of his hand before he locates the coffee maker, soon back and the first sip telling him it’s sweetened to perfection.  
He sends Allison a sleepy smile trying to convey his gratitude; the shoulder knocking into him and the mumbled “that’s so gross” is totally uncalled for but he isn’t awake enough to deal with it.

Soon everybody’s up and the smell of bacon has finished what the coffee began in terms of waking him up. He regrets it instantly when Mr. Turner suggests they all go hiking.  
Now, Stiles is a member of a wolf pack and while he’s still definitely human he’s spend enough time running with them that his stamina is rather impressive; that’s not to say he _enjoys_ running around outdoors. Luckily his hiking boots are back home so at least he get a small reprieve before he has to walk through preserve.

Allison goes with him to get his boots; the car’s silent except for the radio she keeps fiddling with and Stiles drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He’s relieved to see the cruiser isn’t parked in the driveway, not really willing to explain this situation to his dad unless it blows up in his face and there’s no other way - he prays it won’t come to that, startles when his hand’s suddenly squeezed reassuringly but when he looks down at his hand to see if he’d imagined the thing Allison has already opened the front door.

For once the boots are exactly where they were supposed to and they’re in and out of the house in less than five minutes. There’s a ding from Allison’s phone and when she frowns Stiles already knows he’s not going to like what she has to say.

”They took the road close to the Hale house, dad wants us to follow,” she says, Stiles wordlessly pulling out of the driveway and making his way towards the preserve where they park next to Chris’ car.

It’s less than ten minutes before they catch up to the others, Allison reaching for his hand when they’d first heard voices. Stiles can feel sweat beading on his forehead and everything around him disappearing as he’s only able to focus on her hand, how it’s almost as big as his own, the callouses from her bow and the gentle strength in her grip. It’s probably an odd thought but it’s a safe hand and Stiles doesn’t have time for thoughts like that.

Luckily they stumble past the trees into a clearing smaller than the one the Hale House stood in where the Turners and Chris a setting up cans on a log lying at the other side. It’s not that it isn’t clear what is going on it’s more that Stiles finds it weird to go out here and then have target practice. He turns to Allison who looks as bewildered as he does and then to Chris who looks like he’s just eaten a handful of lemons.

”The Argents are respected across the country,” Mr. Turner says handing Stiles a gun. He takes it carefully, gingerly, his grip too loose but he’s never really liked the feeling of weapons in his hands - he’d dreamt of joining the force, following his dad’s footsteps but after the Nogitsune, after Allison nearly dying at his hand even the thought of pulling a weapon on somebody is too much for him to bear. 

”And nobody doubts Allison’s skill with a bow, your’s,” he looks pointedly at Stiles, “are very much in question.” He herds Stiles into position, mumbling something under his breath. Soon he realizes that Aaron, the Turners’ son, is standing next to him, holding a different gun than Stiles.

”Aaron goes first, then you just point and squeeze the tripper,” Mr. Turner says. “May the best man win.” He takes a step back just as Chris gets behind Aaron and Stiles.  
The sound of gunshots is louder than Stiles remembers and he can’t help flinching each time a shot echoes through the forest. Soon though, Aaron’s out of bullets and Chris and Mr. Turner make their way to retrieve the cans and set up a row of new ones.  
They’ve hardly made it behind Stiles before he pulls the trigger, his hand steady and aim sure as he shoots all the cans from the log they’re placed on.

None of the Turners look pleased by this turn of events but Chris’ scowl has lessened a bit and Stiles is going to take that as a win.

~

The rest of the Turners’ stay is wonderfully anticlimactic. Aaron ups his dickishness but his parents seem to think Stiles is a worthy boyfriend for the future Argent matriarch and when they leave it’s with the promise of letting others know that Allison’s spoken for. Stiles doesn’t pay attention, somehow he’s just realized that Allison’s head’s resting on his shoulder and her hair smells like her shampoo and something he can’t quite identify.

~x~

The whole pack, the sheriff and Melissa show up for dinner that night. Once the tale of the Turners have been told questions are flying through the air, Stiles and Allison answering as best they can. Until Scott - of all the people in the pack Stiles had never expected _Scott_ to throw him under the bus like that - asks “did you confess your feelings, then?”. If Stiles hadn’t been reeling from the _betrayal_ of such a question he’d have notice how carefully it was phrased, but he was and he didn’t, instead trying to stammer something, anything, to keep the damage to a minimum.

Then he realized he wasn’t the only one speaking. Slowly he turned his head, Allison sitting next to him as bright red as he felt her mouth open in the beginning of a denial only to gradually stretch into a smile that felt like the sun bursting through the sky.

”It seems you just did,” she said glancing briefly at Scott only to turn all her attention back on Stiles almost instantly.  
As far as first kisses go it wasn’t anything spectacular; the angle was all wrong, the teeth to anything else ration was off, there was a twinge in his back where he was twisting in his seat not to mention the too large audience.

They got better, and telling the story in years to come it was clear that as far as first kisses go it had been damn well near perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> If you can think of a better title I'm all ears :)


End file.
